


Raindrops of Ink

by IcyPanther



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fire Lord Zuko, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Post-Season/Series 03, Tea, Tired Zuko, Zuko (Avatar) Angst, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, after the war, and some tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25291990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: Zuko is encountering far more than a headache as he does his best to navigate the political and financial intriciates of being the new Fire Lord well aware that most are watching and waiting for him to fall. It only makes him more determined to prove that he can do this, that he can be a good Fire Lord to his people. But in his efforts to take care of everyone there is one person Zuko has forgotten about: himself.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 102
Kudos: 538
Collections: Burnt Marshmallow





	Raindrops of Ink

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** set after series end, ~3 months  
>  **Warning notes:** none
> 
> If you read this fic, please leave a comment below detailing what you liked about it (and the small details make my day!). Fanfiction is meant to be engaged with. _**Please, please, please**_ don’t just be a page hit or a kudo or a bookmark. Instead be an engaged, appreciative reader and leave a comment to show said appreciation and give the author a little love for sharing their work. Thank you so much to those who do. I truly appreciate your support ♥

Zuko’s eyes ached as he re-read the missive from the colony of Jao Shing even though he knew what it said.

He had three more just like them.

They were requesting (demanding) that the Fire Nation send troops to protect them because Earth Kingdom citizens were starting to return, especially to the newly conquered colonies in the last decade, and claiming that those lands belonged to them.

He had four more missives from Earth Kingdom leaders of a similar note; no less demanding but worded with far more hidden jargon and slights and reminders that the Fire Nation was in the wrong and it owed them wartime repartitions for all they had suffered.

And he had _six_ between former Fire Nation advisors (and former because he’d fired Father’s entire cabinet upon taking the throne; five were in jail, eight were being investigated and _none_ could be trusted) and wealthy Fire Nation elite giving their opinion on the matter along with veiled threats that he would hurt his own citizens and their businesses to assist foreigners? and even though he was so _young_ and _inexperienced_ he needed to remember who _his_ people were. 

Zuko had strongly resisted the urge to burn them all and pretend, somehow, that he hadn’t received a single one.

He knew it would help if he had _someone_ he could talk to about this, to get advice because no matter what he did it always seemed that someone got hurt, but he was alone in the palace.

Uncle was back in the Earth Kingdom and as much as Zuko wished that Uncle was _here,_ with _him,_ he had made a promise to himself that he would not bother Uncle. Uncle deserved to be happy, to retire and brew tea and tell his proverbs and jokes and not be pulled down by the Fire Nation’s troubles. Uncle had lost so much, had given so much, that at the very least Zuko could give him peace and quiet.

But still…

He turned tired eyes to the blank parchment — his weekly letter he sent to Uncle — because he hadn’t been able to figure out what to say that wasn’t related to politics and issues and he was half tempted to just say that, to beg Uncle to come back to the Fire Nation, just for a few weeks. But pride and guilt stayed his hand and so it remained blank. He really did need to send it soon though because otherwise Uncle would worry and that was the last thing Zuko wanted.

He was just too exhausted to come up with something even remotely interesting to say. He hadn’t left the palace grounds in nearly a week, hadn’t talked to anyone outside of the casual exchange with servants — and he hated that now, three months in, they still didn’t seem to understand that he didn’t want them bowing and catering to his every whim, that no, he didn’t need anything, he just wanted to say hello, ask how their day was and it wasn’t to check if they were slacking off or needed more work — he’d talked about the turtle-ducks last week and he really had no update on that and if he did it again that would be suspicious, right?

He supposed he could tell Uncle about his terrible attempt to brew tea. It had been so bad one of the servants had thought — upon smelling it as he entered Zuko’s study — that it had been poisoned and knocked the entire pot away while screaming for a medic. Zuko’s lips quirked up. It had been quite funny, maybe he’d write to Uncle about that. 

But he couldn’t write to Uncle until he’d done _something_ about these missives and requests and demands for action.

He really, really needed some guidance.

This was why Father — why all leaders — tended to have councils or advisors or whatever their title was. They could delegate items to them, collect their thoughts (and again, why all of Father’s advisors had had to go as even if a small handful hadn’t been cruel, malicious and greedy they were so used to kowtowing to anything Father said that they were utterly useless) and make it so one person was not trying to do _everything._

The trouble was Zuko couldn’t trust anyone except himself here. Everyone had their own agendas, their own plans and he knew he wasn’t as smart as Azula where he could figure out the ulterior motives, what they _really_ wanted. 

The one person he’d considered asking advice for was Master Piando — who held quite a bit of sway and power and people would _listen_ to him and not look down upon Zuko for seeking his advice — and Zuko was planning to ask him if he would be willing to sit on his very, very, _very_ slowly forming council (cough, Piando was the only candidate so far and… and, well, Mai, if she would be willing although right now she was ignoring Zuko’s letters after they’d broken up, _again,_ when Zuko had slowly, quietly realized that while he loved and appreciated Mai… they weren’t right for each other and he hated that he’d hurt her but he knew it was the right decision and she had gone back to New Ozai (or, really, Omashu, and that was one missive he _could_ rename even though he still had _no_ idea what to do about all the Fire Nation citizens in the heart of the Earth Kingdom now) to be with her family and he didn’t want to pressure her right now so that invitation was still sealed in his desk drawer — and… and where had he been going with this?

His thoughts were like that these days; running in ragged circles and tangenting and it was _exhausting_ and he needed to talk to someone and— oh, that’s right. Piando. But Piando was friends with Uncle and he’d talk to Uncle and Zuko didn’t want Uncle to know how _bad_ things were right now.

He just had to fix this.

Just a little bit. He had to show them that he could be Fire Lord, that even though he was young he was capable and he cared. And if he asked for help… then everyone would know, they would think it showed incompetence and that he shouldn’t be Fire Lord, that he didn’t deserve the throne. 

He had to do this on his own.

He’d always had the odds against him.

He could fix this too.

And Zuko returned to staring at the missive.

His cup of cold tea and meal one of the servants had brought him — matching the three abandoned under paperwork and forgotten — when he hadn’t shown for dinner remained untouched.

xxx

Zuko stumbled on the hem of his robes.

Then he realized he wasn’t wearing his robes.

He frowned while he felt his cheeks flush and shot a hasty look around the courtyard to see if anyone had seen that but fortunately his only audience seemed to be a single cardinal-butterfly perched on a tree branch. 

He probably should go sit down, he figured, get something to eat (when had he last eaten? He’d had dinner last night, right?) and maybe he had a few minutes to watch the turtle-ducks and close his eyes and—

“Fire Lord Zuko,” one of the servants — Tai, Zuko thought, he couldn't seem to quite remember now — approached from around the corner. “The delegates from Hirae’i are here.”

“Hirae’i?” Zuko repeated, brow furrowing.

They weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.

“Yes, my Lord,” maybe-Tai gave a short bow. “At high noon as requested. A selection of tea and breads has already been sent.”

The servants were prepared; not scrambling.

The delegates wouldn’t have any reason to arrive a day early when their journey was but two days long.

But…

“What is today’s tea blend?” Zuko asked rather than admit he didn’t know what the date was because as silly as it was he remembered the tea shop’s daily specials from Ba Sing Se and he’d incorporated it into the palace kitchen as a small memory of the time he had spent there and what he had learned.

“Orange ginseng, my Lord,” maybe-Tai bowed again.

Which meant the third weekday. Which was when the Hirae’i delegates were supposed to arrive.

Which meant Zuko was off an entire day. 

“Thank you,” Zuko said instead of the curse he wanted to say and he pushed back the flare of panic that he’d _forgotten an entire day._

Zuko attended the meeting.

He dutifully listened to their complaints — their town had specialized in weapons for war, no more need for such things, they needed financial assistance — a cup of tea and a plate of sweet cinnamon bread in front of him.

He drank two sips and had one bite and all of it tasted like ash in his mouth.

xxx

Zuko realized he’d forgotten to write Uncle. 

The blank parchment, only the fact it had ‘Uncle’ written at the top identifying it, had gotten lost under another untouched plate — his favorite, Tai — and it was Tai — had said, his brow pinched and concerned and Zuko had quietly thanked him but…

But he wasn’t hungry.

How could he be hungry when portions of his own people were lacking basic access to food now? 

He was _failing them._

He’d choked down a couple bites but his stomach had turned over and he’d pushed it aside. He’d dranken the cup of tea — a mint blend — that had accompanied it and that had helped a bit but he didn’t feel capable of eating any more.

His stomach hurt, his head _ached,_ and now, as he held a brush dripping in ink, his arm was shaking.

Black drops fell like rain on the parchment and Zuko hastily lowered it down.

He didn’t know what to write. He thought he’d had an idea but he couldn’t remember it now but saying nothing would only worry Uncle more than he probably already was since this letter was supposed to be sent _four days ago._

So he had to say _something._

He got a new sheet not ruined by ink spots and scrawled something quickly.

_“Uncle, I hope you are doing well. I’m sorry this is late. I’ve been very busy. I hope things are going well at the shop. I’ll write more later. Love, Zuko.”_

Zuko blinked at it.

And crumpled it up.

That…

That was _awful._

Four more attempts later and it was only getting worse; his words, his characters. 

He needed to sleep. 

He should eat.

He cast a glance at the plate of rice but his stomach rolled again and he gave a shake of his head.

Zuko ended up leaving the crumpled paper balls in the trash along with eight scraped clean plates for the servants to bring back to the kitchen and trudged off to bed.

xxx

Zuko wasn’t sure he’d slept. He’d tossed and turned all night as images of ink-spattered parchment and treaties and demands and logs from the treasury and economic report ran through his mind.

He’d risen with the sun and gone out to the turtle-duck pond to meditate under the warm morning rays, but the effort had proved futile as he’d been unable to clear his mind. 

And now he was back in his study, the drafts for three different responses ongoing, he’d knocked over the ink pot twice and all he really wanted to do was cry out of sheer exhaustion and frustration but Fire Lords didn’t do that and he had to prove himself a capable one.

He just…

Couldn’t _think._

Why was this so _hard?_

He lowered the brush and put his head in his hands, massaging his forehead with his thumbs, closing his eyes for just a moment.

The sharp _bang_ of his study door flying open had him jerking his head up, fire already sparking his fingertips at the intrusion that had to be attack, before his mouth dropped and his eyes widened.

“ _Uncle?”_

Because Uncle Iroh was _here,_ standing in the front of the study in Earth Kingdom green with a giant grin and arms spread wide.

“Surprise!” he beamed. 

“What, what are you doing here?” Zuko’s tongue tripped, feeling his cheeks flush at how _rude_ that was but his brain was still trying to process and he was trying to convince himself this wasn’t some crazy hallucination from lack of sleep.

He blinked.

Uncle remained.

“Do I need a reason to visit my favorite nephew?” Uncle asked cheerfully, walking towards his desk.

“Only nephew,” Zuko corrected, as always, beginning to rise and feeling his lips pulling into a smile despite everything because _Uncle was here_ and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed him until just this moment. 

But he’d moved too fast.

Zuko let out a soft gasp as vertigo kicked in and he could feel himself falling, vision graying on the edges and he threw his hands out to catch himself.

Uncle’s shout of his name was the last thing he heard.

xxx

Zuko awoke to a throbbing pain in his head, the crisp scent of fresh brewed ginseng tea, and gentle humming.

He blinked his eyes open.

His bedroom chamber ceiling greeted him.

Zuko blinked at it again.

And he sat up with a jolt as the memory — in his study, Uncle had surprised him and he’d… he’d _fainted_ — and he regretted it immediately as his head swam and the throbbing increased to a stabbing pulse and he slumped over with a groan.

A large, warm hand descended on his back with a familiarity that belonged to only one person.

“Easy now, Zuko,” came Uncle’s soft murmur, a soft chuckle accompanying it, “the tea is not going anywhere.”

But as Zuko cracked his eyes back open and lifted his gaze to Uncle’s, despite the teasing words there was a pinch to his brow and only concern etched in his face.

Zuko’s stomach clenched.

He’d worried Uncle.

The absolute _last_ thing he’d wanted to do.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, not entirely sure what he was specifically apologizing for but it needed said.

“Oh, Zuko,” Uncle sighed and a hand came up to cup his scarred cheek. “What have you been doing to yourself?”

Zuko didn’t know how to answer that. 

“I spoke with your servants,” Uncle continued, thumb rubbing gently. “They tell me you have not been eating.”

“I’ve eaten,” Zuko weakly protested, even as memories of full plates and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made it not only to the dining room but the kitchen pressed in.

“You have not been sleeping,” Uncle continued, rolling right over Zuko’s rebuke. “You look so tired, Zuko.”

Zuko didn’t have anything to say to that either.

“Your letters have been growing shorter and shorter,” Uncle continued, “and they do not sound like you.” He paused, a soft sigh exhaled. “I worry, Zuko.”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko whispered, bowing his head.

“You do not need to apologize,” Uncle said quietly. “You need to take care of yourself. Tell me; why have you not been eating? Why have you had such trouble sleeping?”

Zuko swallowed.

“I’ve… I’ve been busy.”

“Zuko,” Uncle’s voice held a note of warning. 

He knew that was not the real reason.

“I…I just… I didn’t want to worry you,” Zuko whispered. “I, I wanted to prove myself.”

“You do not have to prove yourself to anyone, Zuko,” Uncle said softly. “You have already done so when you took on the mantle of Fire Lord, when you began to bring peace to our home.”

Zuko gave a small shake of his head, pulling away from Uncle’s calming touch.

And the words vomited themselves out.

“Everything… everything is _wrong,_ Uncle. I can’t fix _anything._ Everyone, everyone wants things that contradict each other and I want to help our people but I don’t want to hurt anyone else and everything is so messed up and I don’t know what I’m doing—”

“Zuko,” Uncle tried to interject.

“And I know everyone is watching and waiting for me to fail and so I have to do this on my own to show them I can be a good Fire Lord—”

“Zuko,” Uncle said, firmer.

“But I don’t know what to do or how to fix it no matter how hard I try and I think they’re right and I can’t do this, I can’t even take care of myself and—”

“Zuko!”

Zuko’s mouth snapped shut at Uncle’s shout. 

“Nephew,” Uncle said, softer, “you do not have to do this alone. There is no shame in asking for help. You are so _young,_ Zuko. You have been away from home for over four years. No one, _no one,_ is expecting you to fix all of the world’s problems and most certainly not in just a few months.”

But they were.

Zuko knew their looks, of their whispers, and the way they eyed the throne. 

“I should have been here,” Uncle said quietly. 

“Uncle, no,” Zuko protested as guilt lurched his stomach. “You, you’re _happy_ in the Earth—”

“How can I be happy when my nephew is so unhappy?” Uncle interrupted. 

Zuko cast his eyes down as they treacherously stung.

“But,” Uncle turned to the side and Zuko heard the delicate clink of glass, “this is nothing that a cup of tea and some conversation cannot fix.”

The sound of tea being poured was soothing, familiar, and Zuko mechanically took the cup — nothing like their chipped cups while they were traveling and he missed them, somehow — and let it warm his hands. 

“Drink up, Zuko,” Uncle said as he stared down at his cup. “It is your favorite.”

“It’s your favorite,” Zuko mumbled, voice thick.

Uncle chuckled. “All teas are my favorite, but yes, I am quite partial to a good cup of ginseng.”

Zuko took a quiet sip. 

And another.

He looked up after the third, meeting Uncle’s soft amber gaze that while still concerned was less anxious, softer.

Understanding. 

“Thank you, Uncle,” Zuko whispered. 

“You are most welcome, Zuko,” Uncle smiled at him. “Now,” he settled down into the chair he’d pulled up to Zuko’s bedside. “Tell me what has been troubling you. We will solve it together.”

And Zuko did.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic request of Zuko not taking care of himself while being the Fire Lord and Iroh stepping in and caring for him + a nod to tea ♥ Always fun to explore ATLA a bit beyond the end of the series :) 
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic, **please leave a comment** below detailing what you liked about it (and the small details make my day!). Fanfiction is meant to be engaged with. _**Please, please, please**_ don’t just be a page hit or a kudo or a bookmark. Instead be an engaged, appreciative reader and leave a comment to show said appreciation and give the author a little love for sharing their work. Thank you so much to those who do. I truly appreciate your support ♥
> 
> 💥 **(Like my works? Want to read even MORE? Visit my[Tumblr, icypantherwrites](https://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com) for details.)💥**  
> 


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